


will it wash out in the water (or is it always in the blood)

by vesperthine



Series: future [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Family Issues, Future Fic, Introspection, M/M, POV Alternating, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperthine/pseuds/vesperthine
Summary: Tapping the joint on the cold stone, Isak scrunches one eye up. “Haven’t really thought about it,” he says. “What about it?”Even’s eyebrows go up, watching with that careful intensity that Isak won’t ever get used to( – will forever want to bask in, like a cat on a window sill – ). “Nothing, just thinking it’d be nice, later,” he says, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “To have a little thing running around.”





	1. no thicker than water

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Svenska available: [och det sprider sig som blod i vatten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781462) by [vesperthine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperthine/pseuds/vesperthine)



> one day i’ll write fluff. this is not that day. all the love to [junkshopdisco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkshopdisco/pseuds/junkshopdisco) for being a quick and awesome beta as well as providing helpful thoughts ♡

 

Even asks him, and everything sort of stops.

Tapping the joint on the cold stone, Isak scrunches one eye up. “Haven’t really thought about it,” he says. “What about it?”

They’re huddled together out on the balcony. Watching, on an impulse of the best kind, a rainstorm and sharing a beer, a smoke  _( – weed for him; tobacco for Even – )_  and a blanket between them. Thunder rolls in the distance; the rain patters like gunfire against the roof and the tarmac below.

Even’s eyebrows go up, watching with that careful intensity that Isak won’t ever get used to  _( – will forever want to bask in, like a cat on a window sill – )_. “Nothing, just thinking it’d be nice, later,” he says, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “To have a little thing running around.”

His long fingers run in the air, then up Isak’s arm to his shoulder. Squinting, Isak takes a drag of the joint, sweet smoke billowing out in the drizzle. There’s a slight pressure behind his lungs: one that stays even as the air leaves them.

“But not before you’ve gotten a job, though. Tips won’t cover those expenses.”

“Yeah,” Isak says, slowly, scratching his ear. “But – kids don’t like me, just so you know.”

The words seem distant, spoken from a mouth  _( – with jagged teeth and a void for a throat – )_ that’s not his own. Another swig of beer. It’s lukewarm by now, but it does the job of washing out the taste of the joint. The pressure stays.

Even’s face goes sort of blank  _( – and there’s a tug in his stomach, like tipping over a precipice, going into free fall – )_  before he smiles an eye-crinkling smile and tucks Isak’s head in under his chin. “Ours would,” he says, as he shakes his shoulder. “It’s impossible not to.”

“Maybe,” Isak smiles back  _( – tries to smooth this over, what the fuck is this – )_  at him. “Let’s start with a dog, though. Less of a mess.”

Even’s leans back to get a better look at Isak’s face. “A dog?”

“I’ve had a dog,” Isak says with confidence and swipes his nose when Even still looks doubtful. “I’ll know what I’m doing!”

Even laughs then, loud and joyous  _( – and some air flows in, loosens the tension – )_  “I thought you got Lea from your aunt?”

“We did? She couldn’t keep her because of work, so we got her as a two-year-old. What about it?”

“I know you took care of her. All I’m saying is that you’ve never dealt with a full-on puppy. And, from what I’ve heard, they’re messier than a kid. Pees on the bed, chews up your shoes – ”

“Fine, fine!” Isak says, shoving him playfully, laughing to keep up the lightheartedness  _( – avoiding the edge he can’t figure out where it is, fumbling in the dark with hands outstretched, hoping he doesn’t get cut – )_. “Doesn’t need to be a puppy. You can get older rescues, which, by the way, is better for the karma account.”

“It is.” 

Even smiles, but somehow, it only leaves Isak wishing he had more beer.

Suddenly, the sky is lit up by lightning. The sound rattles the windows, making Even startle beside him and then laugh at his own ridiculousness. His eyes go thin with joy as he pulls Isak into his warm, solid side and they share a chaste kiss tasting of nothing but beer and crackling static; Even’s hand gripping his hair so tight his scalp prickles.

And Isak wants to give him everything; his whole damn being if he could.

A lot of what they have is a defying of expectations. They fell in love too quickly, moved out too early, matured too fast. Despite all of that, everything somehow works out fine. They talk more than most couples their age; they’re too keenly aware of each other’s weaknesses to let it be and there’s no disillusionment, because that curtain was ripped open in that first week, showing it all  _( – the heaviness, the ugliness in them both, always on display, like a war memorial – )_ and it never closed again.

It is a normal question: an expected one. He doesn’t need to think about here and now; not with Even’s arm around his back and his fingers skirting his waistband; not here, with the rain against the roof and the air filled with oxygen and the distant rumbles of Oslo behind their building.

So, inevitably, he does.

 

* * *

 

Visiting the old house is exhausting.

He’s tired before he even gets off the tram. There’s just something about stepping into this house and noticing that it has a different scent now  _( – hits that he’s actually been away so long that the inherent smell of this house isn’t categorized as home anymore – )_ that brings back thoughts he doesn’t like to think about, but does anyway.

Like how the whole situation is a tragedy; one reinforced by Mother’s Day adverts, the complete dependency on public transport and the knowledge that he truly has replaced them with Even, the flatshare, and a bunch of other clueless teens. That he took the choice and left, knowing she needed him, but that he couldn’t do anything about it. Like how his father was and continues to be even more worthless in that aspect; entertaining for even a second that a sixteen-year-old could do a better job than a grown man.

The visits help with the guilt and the anger. Somewhat. Makes it a little easier to deal with; relieves some of the pressure. He makes himself go once a month, just to check in. For her sake, Even’s – and a bit for his own.

Marianne has been taking her medication, and is in a good mood. His dad’s text is from two days ago, but it’s confirmed when he steps inside; the house smelling clean and no mail littering the welcome mat. It makes it a bit easier _( – less heart-stopping, less flashback triggering, less terrifying – )_ to enter. When she sees him, she hugs him and her eyes are clear and focused as she watches him with reverence; holds his face in her hands for a moment too long before letting go.

There are still pictures of him left on the walls in the hallway, and he avoids looking at them; his own smiling face, her, his father and even Lea’s black, blurry presence in the background of some. All to avoid them reminding him of a time before it all went to shit  _( – but it was always a bit shit, wasn’t it, just hidden underneath a veil of make-pretend and he hasn’t truly forgiven either of them has he? – )_ as he toes off his shoes and puts them on the shoe rack.

He knows it’s not her fault, and that she does love him. Always has, and always will, because he is her son. And she’s his mother. So, it should be mutual, shouldn’t it?

But, it’s not that easy. It’s a lie to say it was  _never that bad_. After many a night of hushed conversations, Isak now knows that what he went through is a sort of trauma in and of itself; something he’ll carry with him for the rest of his life.

He might’ve survived, but that’s not bravery: leaving someone behind to save yourself, that is. Someone like Even is strong  _( – to come back to the same place, the same body, and bear it after something like that – )_  and Isak isn’t. That’s just fact. Not even now, when Isak knows where he belongs. He can grow where the odds are against him, through malnourishment, wear and tear, but it’s just not the same.

There’s a big difference between resilience and strength, after all.

She’s made tea, and her hands are shaking slightly as she pours it into his mug and then her own. “Where’s – how’s Even doing?” she asks, eyes skittering around, not staying put.

Taking a bite of the sandwiches she’s also cut up, Isak shrugs. “He’s – he’s good. Says hi.”

She seems to steel herself for a moment, gaze flitting out through the blinds and onto the street outside. Following her gaze, there’s a couple of young girls biking up the little hill; giving each other rides on the luggage carriers.

“You should bring him sometime. I’d love to meet him.”

Swallowing, Isak nods. It’s the first time she’s asked, and his first instinct is to lie. Tell her that Even’s really busy with school and work, and that he’s not at home at this instant, pacing or distracting himself so that he can drop everything and hold Isak for a while when he gets home  _( – absolutely emotionally drained from upholding this mask shielding his crushing guilt and the horrible fact that while he doesn’t hate his parents, he sure doesn’t love them anymore, either – )_

He couldn’t uphold it with Even here; that’s just something he knows.  So, he settles for the middle ground. 

“I’ll ask him.”

She smiles at him, small but still there, and nods. “Please do. He seems like a nice boy.”

 

* * *

 

Even asked him, before, if he wanted kids, and everything in Isak just screamed  _please no_.

When the question had come out of Even’s mouth, a too easily awoken thing inside of him had raised its head, thrashing and snarling and he doesn’t  _( – does, though, it’s just that he simply can’t say or even articulate it in his mind, too abstract but oh so potent – )_  know why. They are a success story, in so many ways; a paragon of overcoming the things people refuse to deal with or talk about. Having kids would be ideal, within a relationship like theirs, would prove a lot of people wrong, but –

Isak doesn’t even want to try.

They’re in bed; him curled around Even’s body, trying to trick his own anxious mind into sleep for the fourth time this week, when it slips out. It has sat in in his throat like a glass shard ever since the visit home; jagged and hopeless and causing as much damage coming up as going down.

“Even?”

A grunt which with some imagination can be translated into  _i'm awake, i'm listening, but i really don't have the energy to turn around right now._

“I don’t think I want kids.”

Even’s breathing stops for a moment and Isak wants nothing else but to go back  _( – sink back into that previous reality, let the escapism wash over him – )_. It never gets easier; being stuck in the liminal space of ignorance and knowing the outcome.

Under his hand, Even’s ribcage expands and then collapses again. “Oh?”

Isak closes his eyes, brushes his nose against the topmost knob of his spine. “Yeah.”

“You know you don’t have to think about that now, though? I was just curious, before.”

“I know. But, it’s true, and I don’t think it’s going to change.”

Even turns his head to catch his eye. “Can I ask why?” he asks after a moment, voice rasping and low with sleep, and the free fall feeling in Isak’s chest comes back with a punch. It’s not just a simple question. It holds so much more weight than Even probably even realises.

It’s not even jealousy. It’s something entirely different. Isak’s keenly aware that Even’s parents are very human; has seen it up close in the form of frustrated phone calls, in texts from a worried father, unwanted reminders for the blood tests and in the edges in Even’s voice at dinners when his mother oversteps yet again.

Still, they didn’t give up. They learned and adapted as their son spiralled in front of their eyes to the point where they almost  _( – in the bathroom, Isak, not that he is likely to go for it again, but don’t let him lock the door, darling, I really don’t want you to find him like that, it changes you as a person – )_  lost him. They answer on the third ring in the middle of the night, pay more than half of their rent, and even though there is some roughness, there’s no doubt that Even’s parents make him their first priority, and they always will.

Thinking about the photos still up in his mother’s hallway, about how much of her and his father still are and forever will be somewhere inside him, breathing gets a little harder to do. Isak shifts, puts his cheek on Even’s shoulder, breathes him in; all freshly washed cotton, boy sweat and just that smell of home and safety.

“I just don’t want to ruin this,” he whispers, closing his eyes again.

Even makes an incredulous noise, turning onto his back to look at him. “What?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles straight into the worn fabric of Even’s shirt, not fast enough to swallow it down. “It just would.”

“Hey. Isak?”

Even’s voice is serious, and when he strokes his shoulder, soothing, Isak swallows again.

“I don’t want them to grow up like I did,” he whispers.

The arm around his shoulder locks up. “What are you trying to say?” Even asks, a beat too late and Isak bites his lip, knowing he fucked up. Even is stiff like a board, a held back edge in his voice  _( – they match now, jagged words in both their mouths – )_. “Just because your parents couldn’t handle it, means we’re doomed too?”

“No – ”

“Then what, Isak?”

Whatever this is, bubbling and itching under his skin, it’s contagious, spreading like blood in water. “I just – I guess I think it’s selfish,” he deflects.

Even goes quiet. “It’s  _selfish_  to adopt a child no one wants?”

Sighing, Isak drags himself from his stiff embrace and sits up against the wall. Clicks on the bedside lamp. His right foot sticks out from under the blanket, and he wiggles his toes; watching the shadows they make on the floor in the light. “No. But, I think it’s – I mean, you’ve put more thought into getting a dog. You’re basically getting a human being to groom for your own enjoyment. Because of something you want. Not for them.”

“Is that what you think?” Even asks, and this harsh disbelief is not playful, not even close. Isak bites the inside of his lip; taking comfort in the taste of his own blood. It’s better to fight about this than the real thing. “Adoption isn’t like that – it’s a hassle. People do it because they truly want a child, you know?”

“But that doesn’t change why you want it in the first place,” Isak says, quiet. Because this feels like an actual fight, and being calm when it’s important is the little thing that separates functioning from disaster. “My parents didn’t have me because they wanted me. They wanted something to care for apart from themselves, and when it all fell apart, I was just –  _expected_  to want to take care of everything, too.”

The glass shard slips down a few notches and the pressure behind his lungs suddenly bursts and blooms out, tender like a bruise. Like a project, a child can be a last-ditch attempt to save something already unsalvageable  _( –  and if you focus your energy right, then your marriage can get another sixteen years added to its lifespan, even though it’s having death spasms from the day you’re born and causing your mother’s first psychosis – )_

Both of them might love him, but sometimes you’re just too selfish to love someone back after they hurt you badly enough.

“You don’t think you’re projecting a bit now?” Even ask after a long while, sounding hollow. “That’s your experience; doesn’t mean it’s universal. Magnus’ mother manages just fine. She loves him and his sister so much, and – they function, Isak.”

Instantly, Isak hates himself. He closes his eyes. “This isn’t about you, okay?”

“What is it about, then?” Even’s voice is so soft, it’s almost inaudible. “Because I don’t like what you’re implying now. Not one bit.”

He is right there, radiating warmth, but his eyes are haunted. Isak wiggles his toes some more, air rushing between them. Getting what he truly feels off his tongue is still a struggle, and sometimes Even does him a disservice with letting his lies and deflections slide until they all crack open in his throat and spill out in ugly, chopped up truths.

“It’s just – I don’t want to be responsible for hurting anyone, okay?”

“You’re not really doing a good job of that right now, just so you know.”

Looking up from his foot, Isak snaps his head back towards him. Even is twisting his mouth, the harshness all gone; his eyes trained on the duvet and his large hands

“It’s not –” Isak tries, reaching out a hand towards him. “I’m –  I choose to, Even. It’s not because of some sort of obligation. Family makes it – it’s just, children shouldn’t have to stay, for any reason, because that makes them resent their parents like you wouldn’t believe and – and then, if they do leave, for their own sake, they can’t stop hating themselves for letting them down and – ”

He stops. Swallows. It stings behind his eyes now, and there’s nowhere to hide apart from behind his own hands. So he rubs his eyes, just to be able to breathe.

“If we do it right, they wouldn’t want to leave,” Even says, still as quiet as before. “You make it sound as if this will blow up, no matter what we do. That’s not true. We can have exactly the life we want.”

“But I don’t want to,” Isak finally makes out, swallowing back the growing lump  _( – truth, the inevitable truth, call it what it is – )_  in his throat. “It’s just – I can’t. I can’t be responsible for more – ”

“More? You mean me. You’re not responsible for – ”

“But I  _am_ ,” Isak says, breathing harsh and too loud in this room _( – the glass shatters in his throat, cuts up his gums and crunches between his teeth – )_. “And you’re just as responsible for  _my_  well-being, Even, and I – choose to be here with you, I want to be with you, and no one else, and I don’t want to bring someone in here that didn’t choose to be here! I just –  why can’t this be enough? Why can’t I be enough, for once?”

He doesn’t plan on the next breath going in through his nose to turn into a sob. It’s so unexpected, four nights of no sleep catching him completely off-guard, that he freezes for a moment, then harshly wipes the tears away before they can fall. “Fuck’s sake.”

Even doesn’t say anything; just looks at him for a long while. Where his jaw was set in that subtly defiant way of his, it goes softer the longer the silence stretches out; Isak’s laboured breath the only sound left. Then, he seems to see something in Isak’s eyes, and in an instant, his beautiful face crumples; eyes glistening a bit in the light from the bedside lamp.

“C’mere.”

Crawling on his hands and knees, Isak tumbles sideways  _( – grey, free fall feeling coming to an end as he catches him – )_  into Even’s open arms.

“You’re my baby, okay?” Even breathes into his ear, clutching him close and rocking him back and forth. “Of course you’re enough. Fuck, Isak, I’m sorry.”

Isak holds back just as tight; his nails digging into the Even’s back. “I just – I don’t want to,” he mumbles into his neck, throat clamped around that small, leftover kernel of truth  _( – wanting to pour every cell of his being into him, knowing he will be there for him in return, and that never changing because there’s nothing but choice anchoring them to each other, making it so much more, because what could be more than this, this state of being, this chosen commitment to togetherness – )_. “You’d be a great dad, but I don’t want to.”

“It’s okay.” Even puts his lips to his forehead. “You don’t have to. That’s okay. ”

Into the white cotton of Even’s t-shirt, Isak mumbles, “Is it, though?”

“I would never force you to do something like that.”

Swallowing, and so glad he doesn’t need to look at his face, Isak says, “But won’t you feel like you’re missing out?”

A hand goes into his hair. “A bit, perhaps?” Even’s voice is all contemplation and honesty.

Isak nods. “Okay.”

Kissing his neck, Even shakes his head. “No, listen. Sure, it’s something I’d like to do, but I wanted to do it with you. But it’s not the most important thing in the world. And our friends will probably have kids. I mean, Yousef said he and Sana might be aiming for twelve so, you know. They’ll probably need a tiny bit of help.”

Isak tries and fails to suppress a smile against his neck at the casual tone, and Even ruffles his hair.

“It’s really okay. You still up for a dog, though?”

Touching his nose to Even’s, Isak remembers a time when Lea was still alive and his mother had a particularly bad episode; thinking he was the bringer of the rapture. He’d been fifteen, his dad away on a business trip for the week, and when she’d finally stopped screaming and gone to bed, Lea had pushed open his bedroom door, and then slept beside him all night; a wall of black fur and slow breathing between him and his mother’s hallucinations.

“Yeah,” he whispers into Even’s mouth. “I can share you with a dog.”

Even breathes back. “Good,” he says.

“I want a rescue, though.”

“For that karma account?” Even jokes, and Isak nods.

“It’s always good to be in the positive there.”

At that, Even tilts his head back and Isak loves him. He gives a lot more than he takes and at times, Isak can’t help but wonder if he is taking care of him at the expense of his own wishes. But, if it’s something he’s learned from this whole thing they’ve got, is that he can’t know and shouldn’t speculate until Even tells him with his own words. 

Which he will.

So, taking the invitation, Isak kisses him, chaste and quick with a hand in Even’s hair; his apology transferring with the touch. His heart’s still racing and there’s another collection of words waiting in his chest, but _( – the edges are smooth and he can hold on to them, tightly, now – )_  it feels alright.

Nothing they can’t handle, when it comes.

“It is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: i really do think him and even will be happier as the very functional, gay uncles with their big rescue mutt whose home sometimes become a safe haven for kids in difficult situations, rather than adopting a kid of their own.


	2. but more worth than blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even's pov. takes place about fifteen to twenty years later. a little different than i usually write (as in future fic) so would love to hear your thoughts ♡
> 
> explanations for scandinavian phenomenons in the end notes.

 

When he steps out onto the parking lot in front of the sports centre, the snow turns into a small drizzle.

Leaning against the trunk of the car, Even flips the collar of his anorak against it. As the girls from the handball team start spilling out _( – always in groups, talking, wet ponytails whipping in the wind – )_ he tightens the hold on the leash. Navi is a quiet dog, but when there’s a lot of people, she has a tendency to get stressed and pull. Isak has no trouble holding her back when she gets like that, but even though he’s taller, Even has never been that strong.

When he’s stood for ten minutes, he starts to look around. But just as he’s about to look at his watch, Navi starts wagging her tail. It beats against his shins, but she doesn’t move even as the last of the girls _( – a tall, slender, familiar, moody thing – )_ comes sauntering towards them.

Even can’t help but smile. “Hi, kiddo,” he says once she’s within earshot. “Is there a game on Sunday, or not?”

Tove, as her name is, doesn’t answer. Just shrugs and drops down to a squat to greet Navi _( – scratch her behind those pointed ears, get a loving and damp dog nose pressed against her mouth in return – )_ before she tosses him a look.

“My knee was fine today, so I think so?”

Even nods _( – knows what special hell she’s been through – )._ “Then we’ll be there. First row, baby. No worries. We’ll bring those homemade signs and everything, don’t you worry.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a twitch at the corner of her mouth _( – which means he got to her, if just a small bit, wrenched open that crack, means that she really wants them there – )_. “You can come if you want to.”

The sky is dappled with clouds, a scent of incoming cold hangs in the air and piles of slush are everywhere. Around them, the parking lot, that is slowly emptying out after the girl team’s practice, is full of puddles. Yet, Tove is only wearing a pair of worn-out plimsolls with a hole in them.

Even raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say a thing. “I’m taking out Navi for a bit. Brought your boots and a raincoat in case you wanna come? If you’d rather I’d drop you off at home, I can do that too.”

She sighs, but then she nods. “Just around the corner, or what?”

“Yeah, just to let her run for a bit. Because apparently – and listen to this –  apparently there’s food waiting for us when we get home. Isak, can you believe it? What a guy.”

“What a guy,” Tove says, smirking a bit as she gets to her feet. Even takes the overnight bag from her shoulder and tosses it in the trunk while she changes into some more appropriate gear. Navi pushes her nose into everything remotely interesting in the meantime.

When she’s done changing, Even hands her the leash. “We’ll just take the long way around the park.”

They start to walk. It’s early spring, somewhere in March, so the darkness is rolling in like the tide. Streetlights are coming on one by one and the light reflects in the wet tarmac on the biking path. Navi is pulling a bit at the leash, trying to go a bit too far into the underbrush, but when Tove tugs gently at the leash, she immediately heels.

“She listens to you because she likes you, just so you know.”

A small, quick, but genuine smile shows up on her face before it dies back down. “Yeah, maybe,” she says, quiet as she watches Navi trot on, nose down.

They’d brought Navi home just over seven years ago. A big, wolfish mutt _( – shorthaired, too long legs and too big ears, everyone suspected greyhound in there somewhere – )_ that had needed a new home. It hadn’t been certain if they were going to take her in at all, but then she’d zoned in on Isak with her big, brown eyes and gently locked her teeth around his sleeve, and it was a done deal. The apartment may have been too small, but Isak had just a few minutes home from the hospital and none of them had anything against long walks. They’d even talked about taking weekly trips to the mountains for her sake.

In reality, it hadn’t turned out exactly like that _( – once a month is more realistic and Even has sacrificed so many lunch breaks for that dog, but now they’ve at least got a garden where she can run off the worst – )_ but they’ve made it. He still wakes up before seven every day to take her out for a long morning walk, even on the weekends _( – and hard as it is, it’s a routine that’s been good for more than one thing – )_.

They walk uphill for a bit and arrive at a slope covered in grass that leads to a gravel pitch with two worn football goals. Tove looks up at him, something glowing in her eyes. Navi does the same; the long, pink tongue almost too far out of her mouth.

“Can I let her run?”

It’s a Friday evening in March, just after seven. Most people are already at home in their living rooms _( – just as they’ll be, in just a bit, the days feel so long now, and still not long enough – )_ either for good or in preparation for a big night out. A few couples are out for romantic evening walks, as well as the occasional jogger in a reflective vest, but otherwise, there are not many people around.

“Go for it.”

Tove lights up and loosens the leash. Even reaches out his hand to put it in his pocket, and Navi sits quietly at their feet until Tove pulls out the tennis ball. Then her nose starts to twitch with barely held back excitement. And as soon as Tove hurls it across the pitch, Navi sets off like a bullet down the slope, Tove close behind; the red raincoat fluttering like a cape behind her.

He stays behind, just watching for a bit _( – happy, and at the same time a bit sad, for some inscrutable reason – )_ before he too starts going down the slippery grass of the slope.

Once down, Navi comes running back with the ball; Tove scratches her behind one big ear once she gets it back. Laughs as she throws it again and Navi shoots away so that tufts of grass and gravel goes flying in all directions. Her paws are going to be horrible to clean, but Even can’t really bring himself to get mad about it.

Because Tove is laughing and, technically speaking, is Navi actually Isak’s dog.

 

* * *

 

When they get home, almost an hour later _( – hungry, tired and exhausted, regarding both him, teen and dog – )_ it’s gotten proper dark. The drizzle has gone back to a light snowfall, one with small snowflakes that melt the moment they touch the ground, and the warmth from inside billows out when they open the front door.

“We’re home!”

It doesn’t take many seconds for Isak to appear in the doorway _( – pale and clearly tired, but smiling, glasses pushed onto his forehead and shirt changed for a hoodie – )_ and Tove goes up to him immediately.

“Hi, kiddo,” he says and pulls her into a quick hug. She’s really grown this last year and easily reaches his chin now. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” she mutters, but she doesn’t let Isak let her go right away _( – holds on a bit too long, a bit desperate – )._

Even gives him a quiet look from where he’s still wrestling with a too excited Navi and her dirty paws. Isak returns it from over Tove’s shoulder _( – warm and quiet, but whatever it is it can wait until later – )_ before he lets go of her. “I’ve made food.”

“Look at that, we’ve got a real master chef in the house now.” Even grins when he finally can let Navi go into the house without making a mess. “Ready _and_ eatable?”

Isak just looks down at him, where he’s sitting, still in his outwear, on the hallway carpet. “Tove, do you see how funny he thinks he is? Do you see what I have to put up with? Damn you, Even.”

It's unusually harsh, but it coaxes a laugh out of Tove – and just like that it's worth it.

She disappears to the bathroom to wash her hands, and Even makes use of the moment; he rises from his crouch and falls straight into Isak’s arms as well. His head is spinning, feels heavy _( – brought down with thoughts that don’t belong, not here, not now, not ever – )_ when he wraps his arms around Isak, holds him tight.

“Hey,” he whispers, brushes his nose against Isak’s cheek _( – breathes in his scent, warmth and almost rubbed off shampoo – )_. “Missed you today.”

Isak burrows his nose in his hair. “Same,” he says, quiet and careful. “How’s it going with you?”

At that, Even pulls back a bit. Really lets himself feel before kissing him lightly  _( – because something as simple as touch can make everything feel a bit easier – )_ and quick on the mouth before brushing away the hair from Isak’s forehead. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

The touch has Isak closing his eyes, nodding. “Good. I’ll try and talk to her later. You can go and lie down for a bit. We’ll come soon.”

Tove comes back and with a nod towards him, she and Isak go into the kitchen to fetch the food. Even stands around in the hallway for a moment _( – staring into the mirror at the far end, knitted hat in one hand, before he catches himself – )_ and then tosses the hat on the shelf. Then he does as Isak said; he goes into the living room and falls down on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light. Lets his body sink down and really relax. His cell phone has been blowing up all afternoon, but no matter what opportunities turn up ( _– no matter what projects he can approve, films he can become a part of, scripts he can read and judge – )_ they will have to wait if it’s the first or third Friday of the month.

Until further notice, at least.

They eat Isak’s Turkish stew on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table _( – and the social worker would most probably not approve, claim it’s not enough quality time, but Even couldn’t care less – )_ in front of a couple episodes of Seinfeld. Tove falls asleep, curled up between him and the armrest, before it’s even eleven, and so Even gently nudges her before she falls into too deep a sleep.

She may be thin, but she’s tall, and he’s carried her enough times to not want to do it again.

“Hey. Tove, go and make yourself ready for bed, okay?” he tells her, only getting heavy eyelids in return. “We’re getting up early tomorrow, if you wanna come with me and Navi, you know?”

At that, he gets a nod before she disappears towards the bathroom to brush her teeth and all that, but just as she’s about to close the bedroom door, she stops _( – leans against it, almost hiding, eyes unsure – )._ “Isak?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you come for a bit?”

“Sure.”

He’s off the couch in no time, and with a glance at Even, he closes the door behind them. So Even presses pause, and goes into the kitchen with their plates and glasses. Isak is the one of them Tove usually likes to talk things out with, and that is just something he has to accept. Alma had talked to him more, and while it was something he really appreciated, almost thrived on, it was also tiring.

Filling up the sink with water and detergent, he starts the washing up. Until now, they’ve only taken in two troubled _( – forgotten, and sometimes so relatable it was almost uncanny – )_ teenaged girls that were in need of some stability. Or, that was the way the social worker had described it, leaving Even having to bite his lip not to laugh at the irony.

Alma had been the first of them; a scornful fifteen-year-old who had been so aggressive he’d almost been scared. When they’d left her at her dad’s after that first weekend, they’d just been sat in the driveway for a long while, shaken; Isak with his elbow against the car door, his head in his hand and Even staring out into nothing _( – until he’d begun to cry, taken Isak’s hand in his like an apology for this mess, how the hell were they supposed to manage this, but an apology Isak had refused to take, only held his hand through it all – )_

In the end, it was Isak’s stubbornness that hadn’t let them give up. He’d seen something of himself in her, and that part of him _( – that warm, loving, caring, invaluable – )_ that only Even gets to see had understood that she needed them, somehow.

It had taken three months of answering her verbal abuse with a stoic face, but then she’d actually let Even into the renovated home office _( – where she’d destroyed furniture and painted on the walls like a defiant toddler – )_ for the first time. After a year she’d begun to talk to him about that anger that lived inside her. He’d painted on the walls with her _( – one or two trees, but also, to Isak’s great disappointment, also the cover for a death metal album – )_ but in hindsight had it been the prelude to slowly but surely chip away at those sky-high walls she’d built around herself for protection.

She’d come and gone for four years before she didn’t need them anymore. Last time she’d called, it had been to tell them she’d been accepted to the nursing programme at the university. And to have gone to that from having twos in all subjects, and almost drinking herself to death on the weekends she wasn’t staying with them _( – and even though she had none of his height, nor Isak’s beautiful mouth – )_ means he can’t be anything other than unbelievably proud of her.

Navi comes in to keep him company while he’s drying the last of the pans, so he makes sure to fill her water bowl up properly before he sits down on the couch again. She curls up next to him, and he leisurely lets his hand run down the smooth fur on her side while waiting for Isak to come back; for Tove to get everything she needs off her chest and use them for what they’re there for.

Isak is gone for another twenty minutes before he steps out again. Carefully closes the door behind him and falls down beside Even again _( – arm slung over his shoulder, pushes his body against his from shoulder to knee, as it should be, forever – )._

“Anything important?” he whispers against Isak’s temple.

Isak takes a swig of the beer left on the coffee table in front of them and makes a face. The living candles cast shadows over his face. “Her sister has had a relapse. She’s been throwing up again, and hid it in Tupperware boxes under her bed.”

Even can’t help but throw a glance over his shoulder towards the old home office _( – a long-lost archive of failed manuscripts and something unidentifiable that he’s also glad to have left behind – )_ turned bedroom. At the same time, there’s something cold settling in his chest. “Oh no.”

“Unfortunately. So, now it’ll start all over again for them, I imagine. We’ll have to be careful with her this weekend.”

“Especially since there’s a game on Sunday as well.” Even caresses his fingers through Isak’s greying, but still thick and shiny hair. It’s gotten more coarse through the years _( – makes it apparent that they’re not young anymore, neither of them, just like his sore and stiff shoulder is a reminder of that same thing – )._

“Exactly.” Isak draws a sigh and revels in the touch; takes a small break from what Even just knows is playing behind his eyelids.

“By the way, you’ll come with us on the walk in the morning?”

Isak stops a yawn behind his hand. “Tomorrow I will.”

“You know, she’s your dog too. Take some responsibility!”

He looks over to the stairs, where Navi has laid down on her sheepskin to sleep, completely worn out from the day and all play. “Maybe. But you love her too, don’t deny it.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Even says, rolling his eyes, and Isak laughs, quiet and fragile.

They sit there for a long while afterwards, not saying a word _( – wrapped around each other, sharing breaths, kisses, warmth so that nothing can wedge itself between them, not even the world, here – )_ until Isak begins to get restless. Looks over to the closed door. Then he looks to Even, holds his gaze for just a bit longer than usual before kissing him. For a long time. Even brushes a thumb over his lip _( – knows that they have to make the most of these moments nowadays, even though it’s never really the right time, never the right place, it has to be made a priority, otherwise, they’ll not make it through – )._ Blows out the candles, takes the hand Isak reaches out to him and quietly follows him into the bedroom; takes Isak’s clothes off while Isak takes his off and then falls down on the bed beside him.

And before, you could maybe have put some sort of meaning in the way Isak clings to him _( – when Even takes him in his mouth and keeps his legs apart, Isak’s gentle hand carding through his hair, the other shoved in his mouth to keep the panting down – )._ Some sort of consolation or acknowledgement. Even’s done it too. Not anymore, but once upon a time. Because he knows that Isak has seen how Even looks at him and Tove; how badly he wants to have just that. Not their relationship _( – Isak rushing up in the middle of the night to get her out of her single mother’s apartment because the big sister just tried to strangle herself with the blinds’ string – )_ but perhaps a daughter.

But that’s not going to happen. Ever.

 

* * *

 

 

A memory: Isak, at the kitchen table a few months before Even’s thirtieth birthday. The souvenir mug from Polaria with cold coffee was like a shield between them. “I’m not saying no out of some _principle_ , Even. I simply don’t want anyone to feel forced into doing something.”

“But you don’t feel forced,” he’d said _( – thought about his own parents, his own family, about how he wanted so badly to give Isak the chance to experience that same thing, show him that it can work, even if they’d have to start from scratch, that it could work fine, that he was deserving of the same thing that Even had had – )._

“I get that. But sometimes, you still do. I could never – if our kid would feel like that, ever, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I would not be able to live with myself, with what I’d done. I choose to care for you; you choose to care for me. That’s the difference.”

“They would want to care for us though. If we, unlike your parents, actually care for them properly. There’s a security aspect to it as well. I don’t know what I’d done without my parents, for example. I’m so grateful for them.”

At that, Isak had turned; had stared out through the window and the street below _( – the biking path, the flaming red autumn trees, parked cars, the new playground – )_ with a terrifyingly intense look. “A kid should never feel unwanted. If so by just one parent.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re so scared. Just as it might go bad, it can go splendid, Isak. You’re not your parents, you can make a difference.”

Isak had looked up at him then, something helpless and desperate in his eyes. “I just want you and me to stay together. Kids increase the risk of that not happening.”

“It’s a choice to stay together. I chose to marry you, and I’ll be here as long as you want me to or until I die. Kids could never change that,” he’d said _( – hoped that maybe that could ease that fear that Isak carried, that he could consider leaving it behind, live without letting it overwhelm everything, suffocate it all – )._ “It’ll be fine.”

But Isak had just shaken his head. “No,” he’s said _( – small and grouchy, all spikes just like ten years ago when Even had first met him, a bit worn down from holding up a faꞔade that had never been quite complete – )._ “It’s selfish. I won’t.”

Sometimes, that logic, that cold and preciseness that Isak always brought with him, almost made Even nauseous _( – dug itself a home behind his breastbone, awoke a stubborn, passive aggressive and almost childish anger – )_. “Navi didn’t have a choice in the matter, either,” he said, harsh. “You had no ethical crisis when we got her.”

Isak’s green eyes had gone black at that. “When will you accept that I don’t _want_ to? A house and a dog, that’s alright with me, but if you want kids, you’ll have to find a nice girl to knock up.”

He’d caught himself, looked down. Had immediately understood how bad and ugly it was, and Even had watched him gear up for an apology. But instead the true reason had just burst out ( – unstoppable, like it had lived there for years and gotten a nice coat of mould made of anxiety, worry, shame that clogged up his throat as it spilt – ): "Because my mom – it’s hereditary, you get it? My insomnia and everything, they’re symptoms and – and everything is a trigger! It can develop in your thirties, even!”

Even had given up then _( – not said that it was an if, not a when, and sat down on the kitchen chair beside him, pulled him in, breathed his scent, kept him close as if he was floating away – )._

“We can deal with it if it comes to that.”

“We can, yes. I don’t doubt that. I just don’t want anyone who didn’t choose be here to have to deal with me when I get like that. Just let me off this one. Please.”

The time after the discussion in the kitchen had, despite understanding from the both of them, been the prelude to the first real crisis they’d ever had. Because Isak had become obsessed with work and going for runs _( – had lost too much weight, radiated such a hollow-eyed guilt Even had thought it’d singlehandedly suffocate them both – )_ and as a reaction to too many nights left alone, he himself had gotten lost in his new project and ruined his sleep routines. Something which unsurprisingly triggered a manic episode _( – gone for four days of which he remembers nothing, until everything came to a stop when the police found him, lying half-dead in a ditch on the way to Sweden, with nothing but a broken shoulder and wrecked bike in the middle of winter – )_ and that was the first time they both had doubted if there was solution to this at all.

A few months later _( – on the way home from that crucial weekend in his parents’ cabin, which his psychologist had suggested when he’d told her how it was at home, with the quiet hurt that laid like a blanket over the whole house, and killed everything, from trust to joy and lust – )_ Isak had come with the timid suggestion that maybe they should become a contact family. His hands had been white claws of anxiety around the wheel, his voice rough and worn _( – but carefully hopeful after the days spent just sleeping with and beside each other and long walks along the sea – )._

“That I could do. Because they won’t be with us the whole time. We can terminate it when we want to. And it does help people. It’s for kids that really – that needs someone other than their parents from time to time.”

Even had nodded then _( – and in that moment, also accepted that adoption or having their own kids were never going to happen – )_ because Isak had found something he could do, without destroying himself; either for his own or Even’s sake.

And in hindsight, it was probably the best thing they could’ve done.

 

* * *

 

There’s a thin layer of frost over the grass that is showing under the snow. The rising sun makes the whole world sparkle and there’s a crunch beneath your boots as you walk. Isak has his hand in his, Tove is a few steps in front of them with Navi trotting beside her. The playground _( – now worn by children, the weather and time – )_ is quiet and empty this early in the morning. During the night, the clouds have dispersed and it’ll be a sunny day, and the grove of trees just beside the slide reaches naked branches towards the slowly lightening sky.

Suddenly, Tove stops in front of them and starts to pull off her Lovvika mittens. “Even! Can I climb for a bit?”

Isak squints towards the sun, studying the oak tree Tove’s pointing at. “There’s ice on the branches,” he says, just as Even shrugs and says “It’s fine, kiddo.”

He knows that Isak send him a sharp look _( – ever the sensible and responsible of the two of them – )_  but when Even looks back, raising his eyebrows once, Isak just shakes his head. “Just be careful, Tove.”

She nods, and after almost throwing the leash to Even, she sprints across the grass. Once by the tree though, she turns around. “Hey, can one of you help me up then?”

Once again, Isak sends him a glance, but this time Even shakes his head. “No, you’re the runner here. My shoulder can’t handle that, and you know so.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but he walks up and stands behind Tove, who’s barely reaching the lowest of the branches when she’s on her tiptoes. He leans forwards to take a hold of one of her feet to give her boost upwards. It works, but the ground is so slippery that once Tove’s gotten a bit on the way up, Isak immediately slips and falls on the slippery grass; landing with a thump.

Tove just laughs from her perch on the branch. “Are you alright?”

“No worries!”

Isak turns towards him, still on his back _( – knitted hat almost off, glasses askew and laughing when Navi accidentally steps on his stomach, thinking it’s playtime – )_ and Even can’t help but smile.

He’s known it for a long time, but then and there _( – when he goes up and gently pushes Navi to the side to pull Isak to his feet – )_ he finally knows that it doesn’t really matter all that much. If Isak’s happy with him, a big, loving mutt and a bunch of grumpy teenagers that come and go, well –

Then Even’s happy too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contact family: a family/couple/single person who volunteers to take in children and teens with either physical diabilities, or as in this case, a child or teen with a troubled homelife that could benefit from seeing how another home works. they take in kids usually one weekday a week and two weekends a month. it's often used to relieve single parents with a weak social network with kids that take more than a normal amount of energy to look after e.g tove's sister. it's part of the social security systems in scandinavia and you ask to get help from social services, who then evaluate if you're in need of one.
> 
> handball practice: the school doesn't have any teams. all sports are played and practiced out of schools and are upheld by associations.
> 
> lovvika mittens: [x](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lovikkavante)


End file.
